Chapter 535: Chapter 48 Leica [Thanks to the alliance leader, Hejian_Skinny Tiger, for the extra update]
All this came and went quickly, like an elusive illusion.
As the dark clouds collapsed, the dazzling sunlight dispelled the piercing cold. The enemies from the sea, stepping on the precarious ice, retreated from the coast, leaving behind a ground strewn with corpses.
The magnificent storm also began to shift. Its speed seemed slow, but in the blink of an eye, it moved beyond the range of the Fortress of the Morning Wind, heading towards the depths of the sea. Large amounts of seawater were sucked up, then thrown into the air, pouring down as icy rain.
The storm was not naturally formed, containing chaotic and violent ether currents. But after the dark clouds collapsed, the ether’s intensity also waned, and it seemed that the storm would soon dissipate completely.
Bologue looked towards the cliff behind him, like a desperate situation. Numerous defensive structures were set up on the steep cliff face, shadows emerging behind them. They wore clothes similar to Palmer’s to signify their ancient status.
"Does this count as overtime? Is there overtime pay?"
Aimou stood beside Bologue, hands on hips.
Since starting work, Aimou discovered that money was a very important thing in this world, even though he was an alchemy puppet.
Bologue started to discuss seriously with her, "We’re on vacation, so probably no overtime pay."
"What?"
Aimou’s expression fell, sulking like she was pouting, and she stomped on a not-yet-dead Wind-Eroded Bird out of convenience.
"Where’s Palmer?"
Bologue searched for Palmer’s figure, and soon spotted him on the cliff. Palmer was hanging there, talking with others, seemingly encountering an acquaintance.
"Really strange, here..."
Bologue glanced around. In such a short time, the storm had already receded to the edge of the horizon, soon to disappear before their eyes.
"It’s weird, look at these soldiers."
Aimou removed one faceplate after another, revealing identical faces, "They all have the same face."
Seeing this, Bologue’s expression turned serious. He wasn’t worried about the Night Race issue, knowing he had a blood pact with a Night Race Lord, who was none other than Serey Villeries, the Night King’s offspring.
With Serey’s bloodline, if the Night King were to die on that eternal throne, Serey was destined to be the next Night King. But from Serey’s usual lifestyle, it was evident he didn’t care about power.
Serey might have pursued power, but in his long life, power turned into something boring, no more enjoyable than dancing on a steel pipe for a moment.
There weren’t many things Bologue feared; the unknown was one of them.
The Night Race to Bologue was not an unknown existence, so he didn’t care. But these Black Armored Soldiers, their bizarreness and mystery made Bologue very cautious.
Bologue patrolled the battlefield, trying to find a few survivors. He was rifling through the bodies, attempting to gather more useful information.
The wind began to rise, and Palmer landed, feeling a bit tired. Extended hovering was quite exhausting for Palmer, but returning to the familiar homeland was always greatly pleasing.
Amidst the corpses, Palmer still wore a carefree smile, the scene having some avant-garde artistic flavor.
Bologue asked, "What on earth is going on?"
"I only asked briefly, and the situation is about the same as Church said..."
Thick and powerful roars interrupted Palmer’s explanation.
Turning his head, a lion over two meters tall was dashing madly this way along the coastal edge, its gray-white fur wildly dancing in the wind, and its sharp claws stomping deep into the ground, creating pits.
"Is the fight not over?"
Bologue murmured, summoning the stones under his feet, with deadly serpents awaiting orders.
But before Bologue could act, Palmer unexpectedly charged out ahead of him, surprising Bologue. Knowing when working with Palmer, Palmer usually pushed all the work onto him.
"Since you’re a violent maniac, I’ll leave my share of the enemies to you."
Palmer said earnestly and gave Bologue a thumbs up, admiring Bologue’s fervor for work.
"What the hell..."
Bologue sighed, and then even stranger things happened.
Palmer collided directly with the lion, with no intention of resisting. Aimou was already in a panic, knowing Palmer wasn’t adept at close combat, let alone fighting such a massive lion.
The lion struck Palmer down, and the two rolled on the beach, with Palmer’s voice vaguely heard... Was that jerk laughing?
"Something’s wrong!"
Aimou vigorously shook Bologue’s arm. She couldn’t make sense of the situation anymore; it was supposed to be a trip, so why were they dragged into a battle? And even if they were, just after it ended, why did Palmer suddenly act crazy and stick his head into a lion’s mouth?
After all the incidents, the Special Operations Group hadn’t lost anyone, but now they were going to lose one here? How were they supposed to explain this to Lebius!
The thoughts of young people are always strange, especially for someone like Aimou who is theoretically still a minor. Drawing from books she had read, Aimou had already imagined Palmer’s tragic life.
In the books Aimou read, someone like Palmer, who appears happy on the outside, might have a very dark heart, constantly troubled by gloom.
Could Palmer have looked at the scene, had a depression attack, and thought that dying in his hometown wouldn’t be too bad, thus fulfilling his wish here?
The lion pounced on Palmer, the huge body pressed against Palmer, then it opened its gaping maw and... licked his face full of saliva.
Palmer felt like his delicate face was being sanded with a piece of sandpaper with countless grits, hurting terribly, but he couldn’t help laughing, reaching out to rub the lion’s chin vigorously.
It seemed... the situation wasn’t that bad.
Palmer stood up, gently pushed, and the lion rolled over, exposing its soft belly, leaving it at Palmer’s mercy, panting with its tongue out, just like a pleased dog.
Wait a minute... a dog?
Bologue recalled that night when Palmer told him about it, from Palmer’s childhood memories, Bologue knew of his dreadful childhood and the origin of the motorcycle’s name.
Bologue brought Aimou over to Palmer’s side, and Aimou was dumbfounded, completely at a loss as to what was happening in front of her.
Wasn’t Palmer supposed to be lion food? How did they look like such good buddies, with some sort of cross-species friendship?
"Palmer, this one is..."
Bologue slowly pointed at the "lion," it still looked at Bologue with excitement, ready to lick him.
"You and it are familiar too," Palmer said with a flamboyant gesture, "We often ride it when we go out."
Bologue had guessed it, but he still found it hard to believe.
"Leica?"
Hearing Bologue call out its name, Leica excitedly licked Bologue’s face full of saliva.
...
"Alright, alright, let me sort out the situation,"
Bologue wiped the saliva off his face, trying hard to get his thoughts into expert mode instead of being led astray by Palmer.
"A group of the Night Race, not sure how they managed, broke through the constraints of the ’Dawn Oath’ and left the Land of Eternal Night..."
Palmer continued from Bologue’s words, "But only a small portion left the Land of Eternal Night, the majority of the Night Race is still trapped inside, so recently they have been repeatedly attacking the Fortress of the Morning Wind, trying to tear up the ’Dawn Oath’."
Bologue said, "Church came to the Wind Source Highlands for this too, under the intact condition of the ’Dawn Oath,’ there shouldn’t be any missing Night Race."
"Pretty much... Let’s go meet my dad, he should know the whole picture,"
Palmer wasn’t interested in caring about such matters; he was on vacation, not here to work.
Aimou stood behind Bologue, not listening to their conversation but instead curiously observing Leica.
During the previous conversation, Palmer repeatedly emphasized that Leica belonged to the phylum Chordata, subphylum Vertebrata, class Mammalia, subclass Eutheria, order Carnivora, suborder Feliformia, family Canidae...
Simply called "dog," also known as "dog."
But Bologue still couldn’t believe it, even though Palmer explained that Leica had been fed all sorts of messy Alchemy Potions since it was small, which is why it grew this big, Bologue still didn’t believe it.
Is it really a dog? By throwing on a layer of Iron Armor, it’s simply a monster. This is definitely some sort of alchemical biological weapon from the Clarks!
"Don’t believe it, try this?"
Palmer said, picking up a broken arm from the beach. It was the severed limb of a Black Armored Soldier; if it were from the Night Race, it would have already been burned clean.
Bologue took the broken limb, waved it in front of Leica, then threw it with full force to the side. In the next second, Leica shot out like the wind, grabbed the broken limb in its mouth, and swayed back, depositing it in front of Bologue, its large tail swaying back and forth, sounding like a whip whooshing.
"See!"
Palmer spread his hands open, his gaze filled with the words "this is a dog."
Bologue gave up arguing with him, reached out to rub the big dog’s head, and praised, "Good doggy."